


Protocol

by prelives



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-11
Updated: 2010-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prelives/pseuds/prelives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She likes working with him, as much as it pains her to admit. They've developed this symbiotic relationship, where she's learned to anticipate his moods and actions, to constantly stay one step ahead of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> So, um not a Kink Meme prompt?!? This came about after I watched Iron Man for the zillionth time the other night, and I realized how much I liked the idea of Tony and Pepper as Kirk and Rand. (I think I've seen this thrown about in a few fanfics as well.) This was partially an experiment in whether I could do banter or not. It could probably stand some more editing or a beta, so any concrit is appreciated.

She's going to put in for a transfer tomorrow, she is, as soon as she finishes this write up about the latest botched away mission (and _really_, Captain, the priestess?) and then she's going to go work as a yeomen on some nice, quiet transport ship with a normal captain and crew. She'll fill out the paperwork in her desk drawer, and be gone by the end of the week, easy as pie.

Janice does not choose to dwell on the fact that the paperwork has now been there for almost a year, and she's made this promise to herself on a weekly basis since she started on the Enterprise.

* * *

"Do I have to go to this meeting?"

"Captain, this meeting is very important in promoting diplomatic relations with their ruler."

"Isn't that why I have you? To go to these meetings?"

"I remind you of the meetings, and you go, because for some God forsaken reason, someone made you captain."

"They're boring."

"On the contrary, Captain, you seem to have copious amounts of fun at these meetings, seeing as how drunk you got the Deltan contingent two weeks ago."

"We signed the trade agreement! I don't recall there being any complaints."

"There was nearly an _orgy_."

"Oh. Right. Well I'll try to avoid that this time."

"Please. Do."

"What would I do without you, Rand?"

"I think about that everyday, Captain."

* * *

The thing is, Janice is _good_ at her job. She's constantly attuned to details, little things that most people miss. And she likes to think she's reasonably good at wrangling the Captain. Well, better than most people. The paperwork always makes it in on time (though sometimes she's not sure how), and daily business gets done.

Despite how absolutely _maddening_ he can be, she likes working for Captain Kirk. He may be slightly insane, but he's also brilliant. He has that "do or die" attitude that makes people want to stupidly and loyally follow him into certain death. Which includes her. He's young and brash, but he _cares_. She knows he'll talk with Admiral Pike for hours after a bad mission, dissecting what went wrong and how to fix it next time. And she knows that despite the fact they fight with each other nearly everyday, the Captain and Spock have developed a mutual respect. Spock's probably the only one (aside from maybe Dr. McCoy) who truly understands the way the Captain's mind works, how it's constantly analyzing and working, shifting and jumping from idea to idea.

She likes working with him, as much as it pains her to admit. They've developed this symbiotic relationship, where she's learned to anticipate his moods and actions, to constantly stay one step ahead of him.

* * *

"The reports?"

"Done. I've already arranged for Ensign Anders' body to be transported back to his family tomorrow."

"Good. I'll write the letter."

"Get some sleep first, Captain."

"Thanks, Rand. I got a few things to take care of first."

"The debriefing's scheduled for later tomorrow, and I already put in the formal request for Ensign Johnson to have psych leave. I could tell today he needs it. Please get some sleep."

"You're the best, Yeoman."

"I do try."

* * *

She's not totally blind, he _is_ a good-looking guy. She knows better than to even _think_ about doing anything. She remembers his reputation at the Academy, and never even mind the obvious violation of protocol. And yeah, she's _thought_ about it, what his skin feels like against her own when their hands brush together on the table. She's _thought_ about what it would be like to have those intense blue eyes focused on her, her body, all of her.

But she's definitely not going to _do_ anything about it, no question. It's not so hard to convince herself, because, hello, he's _James Tiberius Kirk_ and he can have any woman, man, species he wants, so there's no reason he should bother with her. Obviously.

* * *

And then things start getting weird. It starts after a particularly hostile meeting with the Klingon ambassadors.

"Well that went badly."

"That's a light way of putting it, Captain."

When they get back to the ready room, he collapses into a chair like a rag doll, kicking off his shoes so he can stretch. Janice takes the chair across from him, wincing as she rolls her stiff neck. She's not even paying attention when he gets up from his chair and stands behind her chair. She jumps at the first touch of his fingers against her neck.

"Captain, what are you doing?"

"Just relax, Rand. You've been working so hard, you're so tense." She wants to move away, wants to push his hands off of her, but it feels so deliciously good, the way the knots of tension are slowly fading away.

"Thank you, Captain." Her voice is barely above a whisper, she's afraid if she moves too suddenly she'll break this spell, this trance.

"Jim. When you're off-duty you can call me Jim." His voice sounds rough, as his hands move lower and lower on her back, working and kneading at her stiff muscles.

After he stops, they're both quiet, their silence heavy in the room.

"I should go," she whispers, and he gives a small nod. His hand is still lingering on her neck, playing lightly with the blonde strands that have slipped out of her bun.

"See you tomorrow, Rand?" He's smiling, but it lacks its usual goofiness and holds a certain boyish hopefulness that she's never seen.

"As always, Captain." She straightens up, tugging her uniform skirt down self-consciously, before gathering her PADD and the stack of paperwork and stumbling out.

Later, she worries that things will be awkward, their tentative friendship broken.

"Morning, Rand. What exciting things do you have for me to do today?" he asks as soon as she sits down at their morning debrief session, and she can do this, she thinks.

* * *

Over the next couple weeks, they settle back into their normal routine easily enough.

"Raaannd?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I don't want to write up the mission reports."

"I'm sorry, Captain, I can't do that for you, seeing as how I wasn't on the mission."

"You should come next time. I hear the next planet has sex pollen."

"You've said that about the last four planets."

"Well I was right the second time. I had to witness all sorts of perversities! Amongst my own crew!"

"How awful for you."

"It was. It really was. I don't think I'll ever recover."

"I think you'll live, Captain. Or else do you want me to tell Dr. McCoy you are feeling unwell? I'm sure he has a hypospray for you."

"Very sneaky, Rand. Trying to get me unconscious so you can have your way with me?"

"Always, Captain."

"I knew you were trouble. I feel violated already."

* * *

And yes, she _tries_ not to think about the way his hands had felt on her neck, her back, firm and strong against her body. It's impossible, no matter how hard she tries, not to imagine what those hands would feel like against other parts of her body, on her breasts, her thighs, in between her legs.

She's succeeding, she's so sure she is, until she finds herself watching him one day while he's on the bridge. He's tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the arm of the chair, idly discussing something with Sulu. Janice can't help but watch the way he rubs his thumb against the armrest, and before she can stop herself she's thinking about how it would feel rubbing against her clit, stroking her until –

She excuses herself to the bathroom, squeezing her eyes shut as she slips her hand into her panties. She imagines it's his strong hand instead of her own delicate fingers, pretends that she's pushing up against his body, surrounded by his scent. She bites her lip when she comes, swallowing down the scream that threatens to escape. It's a few minutes before her legs stop shaking. She tries her best to clean up, but when she looks in the mirror, it's like it's written all over her face.

She can't bring herself to go back to the bridge. It'd be impossible to look him in the eye after _that_ little episode, she thinks with a feeling of mortification. She comms the Captain, tells him that she's going back to her quarters to do some paperwork. He's silent for a long time, so long that she thinks he hasn't heard her. He tells her okay, sounding almost sad, and that they'll meet later for the end the day debrief.

* * *

It's a little like walking on eggshells, she thinks. One wrong move, and this carefully constructed partnership will completely shatter. But he keeps doing these _things_, these infuriating little _things_, that make her want to kiss him or punch him. Or both.

"Are we finally finished the monthly departmental requests?"

"Sent in an hour ago, Captain."

"Anything odd?"

"Aside from Lieutenant Scott's usual request for obscene amounts of engineering equipment, some of which is possibly illegal, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Okay then."

He leans against the back of her chair, watching her enter items into her PADD, and she's suddenly acutely aware of his hand resting idly right next to her shoulder. He lets his fingers brush against the back of her neck, through her ponytail. She swallows, and her mouth feels dry.

"Captain." Her voice sounds caught in her throat.

"Yes, Rand?"

"I should go." He moves his hand, and she's walking out the door on trembling legs, trying to _not_ think about how nice that had felt, how his breath had felt hot against her skin.

It's getting harder to pretend.

* * *

They're under attack. The ship's rocking with each new wave of hits, and Janice feels a bit like she's on an actual ship, a real ship in the water. Though the Enterprise is technically a ship, she thinks absentmindedly. She's focused, like she always is in this type of crisis. She shepherds the injured crew members to sickbay, makes sure there's a steady stream of engineers already working on repairs, and just tries to keep some semblance of control in this rapidly deteriorating situation. She should be more scared – this isn't the first time they've been under attack, but she'll never get used to the way each hit reverberates throughout the entire ship – but the only thing she can think of is the Captain, _Jim_, because he's not answering his comm.

She gets updates from Uhura in fifteen minute intervals, and there's no time to ask about the Captain, where he is, what's he's doing, is he doing anything? So she stays focused, stays methodical. It's a couple hours later before they're okay, having successfully fended off their attackers. She goes down to sickbay to help direct the chaos, and she barely has time to react when the Captain walks in, looking a little banged up, but walking on his own two feet. He sees her staring, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but Dr. McCoy is yanking him away, waving around a tricorder while admonishing him for not coming down sooner.

She's relieved, more relieved than she wants to admit. She's glad their captain is okay, she tells herself, as it means he can continue to lead the crew to safety. But it's more than that type of relief. She's glad that _he_ is okay, that _he_ isn't dead. She doesn't catch sight of him again until sickbay has started to empty out, only the really torn up crew members remain. Despite the obvious exhaustion in his body, he's moving from bed to bed, talking quietly with each injured person. She feels a lump forming in her throat, and she has to turn away before anyone can see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"You should get some rest, Janice." Nurse Chapel gives her a nudge towards the door. "We got it under control."

"You sure?" She wants to argue that she can stay, she can help, but a sudden wave of exhaustion hits her, washing over her so her knees nearly buckle.

"Positive." Christine's face is drawn and tight, but she'll be okay. "Get out of here." Janice smiles at her, giving her hand a squeeze before she leaves.

After she gets back to her quarters, she barely has the energy to slip out of her shoes before she collapses on the bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. She jerks awake after what feels like only minutes, because there's something pounding in, no _on_, her head. She rubs her eyes, and realizes there's someone knocking at the door. She drags herself to the door, rubbing blearily at her eyes. It's the Captain.

"Rand?" He's mostly cleaned up, save for some dried blood here and there, but there's a huge rip up the side of his gold uniform shirt, and for God's sake he's still the most beautiful thing she's seen all day.

"Captain?" She looks like hell, she knows it, uniform dirty and rumpled, hair half falling out of its bun. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's okay now. I… just wanted to check on you, I lost track of you in sickbay. Can I come in?" She steps aside to let him in.

"You weren't answering your comm. I thought you were dead." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and he looks up at her, startled.

"It fell and broke after the first hit. Then things were just too crazy. But you were talking to Uhura, right?"

"I was worried." Despite herself, she feels tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. "I was really worried."

"Rand." He takes a step closer to her, his voice soft. "Janice. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you unhappy."

"Have you slept?"

He shrugs. "A bit." She's pretty sure he's lying, or at least stretching the truth, judging by the way his body sags.

She's not quite sure what she's doing when she takes his hand, leading him to sit on the bed. He doesn't say anything, lifting up his arms so she can take off his shirt. He unlaces his shoes, slipping them off next to Janice's own pair. And then he's in his black undershirt and pants, looking strangely naked without his gold command uniform.

"Jim." There's a spark of something in his eyes at her use of his first name. "Sleep. Please." She pushes him back until he's sprawled on her bed, and then she crawls next to him. This is not standard protocol, she's certain, but it seems like the right thing to do, _feels_ like the right thing to do. He reaches out to take her hand as his eyelashes start to flutter. She doesn't think she'll be able to sleep, not with his warm body next to her own, but she lets exhaustion overtake her again and within minutes she's asleep.

* * *

When she wakes up several hours later, she finds, to her immense embarrassment, that she has somehow ended up sprawled _on top_ of the Captain, with his arm neatly tucked around her. She's trying to figure out the safest way to disentangle her torso from his grip when he suddenly stirs.

"Janice? Izzatyou?" His voice is garbled with sleep, eyes blinking sluggishly with the effort of waking up.

"Morning, Captain." He smiles, before reaching out and flicking a lot of hair out of her eyes. She needs to move, get away from this situation before it gets completely out of control, but she's frozen, unable to budge herself from his warm embrace. This is it, she thinks, fight or flight. She can do something about this, or she can _do_ something about this, and for once in her life she picks the latter. Her stomach twisting with a combination of fear and adrenaline, she shifts forward so that their faces are nearly touching, before she leans down to press her lips against his in a soft kiss.

After a couple seconds, she realizes, to her horror, that he's not kissing her back. She pulls away sharply, looking for the quickest retreat from what was an awful impulse.

"Wait." He sits up, grabbing her wrist before she can roll off the bed.

"I'm sorry, that was completely inappropriate, and it won't – "

"Janice." He draws her back against him, and then he's kissing her again, more forcefully this time.

"Oh," she says, when he pulls away. He smiles, hand coming up to tangle in her messy hair, cradling her head as he captures her mouth again.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," he breathes, stroking his thumb across her jaw line. She doesn't say anything, as she's pretty sure they're in violation of at least half a dozen regulations. But if there's anything Jim has taught the crew of the Enterprise (and her) it's that rules are made to be broken. And this one is _definitely_ worth breaking.

She straddles his lap, lets him plant a row of kisses down her neck to her chest. She should probably be more concerned, she thinks, about the fact they're both still somewhat grungy from the attack, but she doesn't want him to stop now, not even for one second. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulls it up over her head so that she's just in her bra and skirt. She resists the urge to cross her arms over her chest, just lets him take her in.

"Can I?" he asks, reaching for her bra straps. She nods, lets him unhook her very boring, definitely regulation bra. His hands come up to cup her breasts, and he's looking at her with an almost religious reverence. He rubs his thumb across one nipple, and she shivers, arching against his touch. "God, look at you." He murmurs, almost to himself.

"Jim, please," she moans, rocking against him. He's hard against her thigh, sending a surge of warmth to the pit of her stomach. There will be time to take it slow later, but for now she just wants _him_, right now, before she wakes up and discovers this was all a dream. He lets her shift off of him, so he can pull off his shirt and pants, and she takes the opportunity to rid herself of her skirt and panties.

He crawls on top of her, slipping his hand down between her legs. She's wet, already slick with her arousal, and she inhales sharply when his fingers brush against her clit.

"_Christ_, Janice, so wet, gonna feel so good," he murmurs, before slipping one finger inside of her. She grinds against his hand, searching for some friction, anything, to satisfy that ache that's building inside of her. He slides into her in one hard stroke, and she gasps at the sudden fullness, the feeling of stretching around him. She shifts her legs higher up around his body, and she feels her vision start to darken around the edges as the new angle lets him sink in deeper and harder.

He looks down at her, eyes wide, hair sticking up in odd clumps, and he smiles suddenly. He looks so happy at that moment it's impossible not to return his smile, and she giggles, tightening her legs around him so that he shudders hard.

"God, just, careful not to kill a guy," he says, voice faltering. He lifts up one of her legs, draping it over his shoulder, pushing into her with a heightened intensity. She can feel the heat spreading in her belly and hips, that urgency building with each of his thrusts. He's rolling his hips now, quickening his pace so she's on the edge, that desperate, wanting feeling threatening to burst out of her. She slips a hand between their sweaty bodies, slides her fingers over her clit.

"Please, oh God, I'm – I'm so – _God_ \- "

"Janice, gonna, come on, baby, I got you," His rhythm is faltering now, his hips slamming into her own, and she presses her fingers against her clit again until – oh – and _there_ it is, that delicious release. She lets out noises that sound something like choking sobs, her body convulsing around him. "That's it, sweetheart, _take it_, just - _fuck_, just like that – "

He thrusts a couple more times before she feels him come with a low groan. He rolls off of her to flop onto the bed, breathing heavily. "Christ, Janice, should've done this months ago." She giggles, giddy and terrified at what happened – does she have to quit now or should they just – and then he gathers her against him, so that she's resting atop his chest, the way she woke up that morning. She props herself up to look at him, and he quirks an eyebrow. "Got anything to say?"

She's mortified for a second when she remembers the state of her hair, the fact that there quite possibly may be dried blood or something equally awful in it, and she winces. "Ugh. I need a shower." He laughs, leaning forward so he can kiss her. "You need a shower," she amends, taking in his still slightly bruised body.

"Really?" He plays with a lock of her hair, absentmindedly winding it around his finger. "Dr. McCoy told me I'm supposed to be on bed rest."

"You also need a shower. Shower. Then food."

"Then back to bed?" He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she laughs.

"Then bed," she agrees.

"Janice, as my yeomen, you are in charge of my schedule." He's got that mischievous look, the one that can only mean trouble.

"Well, of course." She watches him warily.

"I think we need to have more of this," he says, gesturing between the two of them. "You know, in my daily schedule."

She purses her lips, pretending to look thoughtful, before she smiles. "Oh, I think that can be arranged, Captain."


End file.
